1901
UP FROM SLAVERY
by Booker T. Washington
Electronically Enhanced Text (c) Copyright 1996, World Library(R)
PREFACE
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This volume is the outgrowth of a series of articles, dealing
with incidents in my life, which were published consecutively in the
Outlook. While they were appearing in that magazine I was constantly
surprised at the number of requests which came to me from all parts of
the country, asking that the articles be permanently preserved in book
form. I am most grateful to the Outlook for permission to gratify
these requests.
I have tried to tell a simple, straightforward story, with no
attempt at embellishment. My regret is that what I have attempted to
do has been done so imperfectly. The greater part of my time and
strength is required for the executive work connected with the
Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute, and in securing the money
necessary for the support of the institution. Much of what I have said
has been written on board trains, or at hotels or railroad stations
while I have been waiting for trains, or during the moments that I
could spare from my work while at Tuskegee. Without the painstaking
and generous assistance of Mr. Max Bennett Thrasher, I could not
have succeeded in any satisfactory degree.
B. T. W.
I.
A SLAVE AMONG SLAVES
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I was born a slave on a plantation in Franklin County, Virginia.
I am not quite sure of the exact place or exact date of my birth,
but at any rate I suspect I must have been born somewhere and at
some time. As nearly as I have been able to learn, I was born near a
cross-roads post-office called Hale's Ford, and the year was 1858 or
1859. I do not know the month or the day. The earliest impressions I
can now recall are of the plantation and the slave quarters- the
latter being the part of the plantation where the slaves had their
cabins.
My life had its beginning in the midst of the most miserable,
desolate, and discouraging surroundings. This was so, however, not
because my owners were especially cruel, for they were not, as
compared with many others. I was born in a typical log cabin, about
fourteen by sixteen feet square. In this cabin I lived with my
mother and a brother and sister till after the Civil War, when we were
all declared free.
Of my ancestry I know almost nothing. In the slave quarters, and
even later, I heard whispered conversations among the coloured
people of the tortures which the slaves, including, no doubt, my
ancestors on my mother's side, suffered in the middle passage of the
slave ship while being conveyed from Africa to America. I have been
unsuccessful in securing any information that would throw any accurate
light upon the history of my family beyond my mother. She, I remember,
had a half-brother and a half-sister. In the days of slavery not
very much attention was given to family history and family records-
that is, black family records. My mother, I suppose, attracted the
attention of a purchaser who was afterward my owner and hers. Her
addition to the slave family attracted about as much attention as
the purchase of a new horse or cow. Of my father I know even less than
of my mother. I do not even know his name. I have heard reports to the
effect that he was a white man who lived on one of the near-by
plantations. Whoever he was, I never heard of his taking the least
interest in me or providing in any way for my rearing. But I do not
find especial fault with him. He was simply another unfortunate victim
of the institution which the Nation unhappily had engrafted upon it at
that time.
The cabin was not only our living-place, but was also used as the
kitchen for the plantation. My mother was the plantation cook. The
cabin was without glass windows; it had only openings in the side
which let in the light, and also the cold, chilly air of winter. There
was a door to the cabin- that is, something that was called a door-
but the uncertain hinges by which it was hung, and the large cracks in
it, to say nothing of the fact that it was too small, made the room
a very uncomfortable one. In addition to these openings there was,
in the lower right-hand corner of the room, the "cat-hole"- a
contrivance which almost every mansion or cabin in Virginia
possessed during the ante-bellum period. The "cat-hole" was a square
opening, about seven by eight inches, provided for the purpose of
letting the cat pass in and out of the house at will during the night.
In the case of our particular cabin I could never understand the
necessity for this convenience, since there were at least a half-dozen
other places in the cabin that would have accommodated the cats. There
was no wooden floor in our cabin, the naked earth being used as a
floor. In the centre of the earthen floor there was a large, deep
opening covered with boards, which was used as a place in which to
store sweet potatoes during the winter. An impression of this
potato-hole is very distinctly engraved upon my memory, because I
recall that during the process of putting the potatoes in or taking
them out I would often come into possession of one or two, which I
roasted and thoroughly enjoyed. There was no cooking-stove on our
plantation, and all the cooking for the whites and slaves my mother
had to do over an open fireplace, mostly in pots and "skillets." While
the poorly built cabin caused us to suffer with cold in the winter,
the heat from the open fireplace in summer was equally trying.
The early years of my life, which were spent in the little cabin,
were not very different from those of thousands of other slaves. My
mother, of course, had little time in which to give attention to the
training of her children during the day. She snatched a few moments
for our care in the early morning before her work began, and at
night after the day's work was done. One of my earliest
recollections is that of my mother cooking a chicken late at night,
and awakening her children for the purpose of feeding them. How or
where she got it I do not know. I presume, however, it was procured
from our owner's farm. Some people may call this theft. If such a
thing were to happen now, I should condemn it as theft myself. But
taking place at the time it did, and for the reason that it did, no
one could ever make me believe that my mother was guilty of
thieving. She was simply a victim of the system of slavery. I cannot
remember having slept in a bed until after our family was declared
free by the Emancipation Proclamation. Three children- John, my
older brother, Amanda, my sister, and myself- had a pallet on the dirt
floor, or, to be more correct, we slept in and on a bundle of filthy
rags laid upon the dirt floor.
I was asked not long ago to tell something about the sports and
pastimes that I engaged in during my youth. Until that question was
asked it had never occurred to me that there was no period of my
life that was devoted to play. From the time that I can remember
anything, almost every day of my life has been occupied in some kind
of labour; though I think I would now be a more useful man if I had
had time for sports. During the period that I spent in slavery I was
not large enough to be of much service, still I was occupied most of
the time in cleaning the yards, carrying water to the men in the
fields, or going to the mill, to which I used to take the corn, once a
week, to be ground. The mill was about three miles from the
plantation. This work I always dreaded. The heavy bag of corn would be
thrown across the back of the horse, and the corn divided about evenly
on each side; but in some way, almost without exception, on these
trips, the corn would so shift as to become unbalanced and would
fall off the horse, and often I would fall with it. As I was not
strong enough to reload the corn upon the horse, I would have to wait,
sometimes for many hours, till a chance passer-by came along who would
help me out of my trouble. The hours while waiting for some one were
usually spent in crying. The time consumed in this way made me late in
reaching the mill, and by the time I got my corn ground and reached
home it would be far into the night. The road was a lonely one, and
often led through dense forests. I was always frightened. The woods
were said to be full of soldiers who had deserted from the army, and I
had been told that the first thing a deserter did to a Negro boy
when he found him alone was to cut off his ears. Besides, when I was
late in getting home I knew I would always get a severe scolding or
a flogging.
I had no schooling whatever while I was a slave, though I
remember on several occasions I went as far as the schoolhouse door
with one of my young mistresses to carry her books. The picture of
several dozen boys and girls in a schoolroom engaged in study made a
deep impression upon me, and I had the feeling that to get into a
schoolhouse and study in this way would be about the same as getting
into paradise.
So far as I can now recall, the first knowledge that I got of the
fact that we were slaves, and that freedom of the slaves was being
discussed, was early one morning before day, when I was awakened by my
mother kneeling over her children and fervently praying that Lincoln
and his armies might be successful, and that one day she and her
children might be free. In this connection I have never been able to
understand how the slaves throughout the South, completely ignorant as
were the masses so far as books or newspapers were concerned, were
able to keep themselves so accurately and completely informed about
the great National questions that were agitating the country. From the
time that Garrison, Lovejoy, and others began to agitate for
freedom, the slaves throughout the South kept in close touch with
the progress of the movement. Though I was a mere child during the
preparation for the Civil War and during the war itself, I now
recall the many late-at-night whispered discussions that I heard my
mother and the other slaves on the plantation indulge in. These
discussions showed that they understood the situation, and that they
kept themselves informed of events by what was termed the
"grape-vine telegraph."
During the campaign when Lincoln was first a candidate for the
Presidency, the slaves on our far-off plantation, miles from any
railroad or large city or daily newspaper, knew what the issues
involved were. When war was begun between the North and the South,
every slave on our plantation felt and knew that, though other
issues were discussed, the primal one was that of slavery. Even the
most ignorant members of my race on the remote plantations felt in
their hearts, with a certainty that admitted of no doubt, that the
freedom of the slaves would be the one great result of the war, if the
Northern armies conquered. Every success of the Federal armies and
every defeat of the Confederate forces was watched with the keenest
and most intense interest. Often the slaves got knowledge of the
results of great battles before the white people received it. This
news was usually gotten from the coloured man who was sent to the
post-office for the mail. In our case the post-office was about
three miles from the plantation and the mail came once or twice a
week. The man who was sent to the office would linger about the
place long enough to get the drift of the conversation from the
group of white people who naturally congregated there, after receiving
their mail, to discuss the latest news. The mail-carrier on his way
back to our master's house would as naturally retail the news that
he had secured among the slaves, and in this way they often heard of
important events before the white people at the "big house," as the
master's house was called.
I cannot remember a single instance during my childhood or early
boyhood when our entire family sat down to the table together, and
God's blessing was asked, and the family ate a meal in a civilized
manner. On the plantation in Virginia, and even later, meals were
gotten by the children very much as dumb animals get theirs. It was
a piece of bread here and a scrap of meat there. It was a cup of
milk at one time and some potatoes at another. Sometimes a portion
of our family would eat out of the skillet or pot, while some one else
would eat from a tin plate held on the knees, and often using
nothing but the hands with which to hold the food. When I had grown to
sufficient size, I was required to go to the "big house" at meal-times
to fan the flies from the table by means of a large set of paper
fans operated by a pulley. Naturally much of the conversation of the
white people turned upon the subject of freedom and the war, and I
absorbed a good deal of it. I remember that at one time I saw two of
my young mistresses and some lady visitors eating ginger-cakes, in the
yard. At that time those cakes seemed to me to be absolutely the
most tempting and desirable things that I had ever seen; and I then
and there resolved that, if I ever got free, the height of my ambition
would be reached if I could get to the point where I could secure
and eat ginger-cakes in the way that I saw those ladies doing.
Of course as the war was prolonged the white people, in many cases,
often found it difficult to secure food for themselves. I think the
slaves felt the deprivation less than the whites, because the usual
diet for the slaves was corn bread and pork, and these could be raised
on the plantation; but coffee, tea, sugar, and other articles which
the whites had been accustomed to use could not be raised on the
plantation, and the conditions brought about by the war frequently
made it impossible to secure these things. The whites were often in
great straits. Parched corn was used for coffee, and a kind of black
molasses was used instead of sugar. Many times nothing was used to
sweeten the so-called tea and coffee.
The first pair of shoes that I recall wearing were wooden ones.
They had rough leather on the top, but the bottoms, which were about
an inch thick, were of wood. When I walked they made a fearful
noise, and besides this they were very inconvenient, since there was
no yielding to the natural pressure of the foot. In wearing them one
presented an exceedingly awkward appearance. The most trying ordeal
that I was forced to endure as a slave boy, however, was the wearing
of a flax shirt. In the portion of Virginia where I lived it was
common to use flax as part of the clothing for the slaves. That part
of the flax from which our clothing was made was largely the refuse,
which of course was the cheapest and roughest part. I can scarcely
imagine any torture, except, perhaps, the pulling of a tooth, that
is equal to that caused by putting on a new flax shirt for the first
time. It is almost equal to the feeling that one would experience if
he had a dozen or more chestnut burrs, or a hundred small
pin-points, in contact with his flesh. Even to this day I can recall
accurately the tortures that I underwent when putting on one of
these garments. The fact that my flesh was soft and tender added to
the pain. But I had no choice. I had to wear the flax shirt or none;
and had it been left to me to choose, I should have chosen to wear
no covering. In connection with the flax shirt, my brother John, who
is several years older than I am, performed one of the most generous
acts that I ever heard of one slave relative doing for another. On
several occasions when I was being forced to wear a new flax shirt, he
generously agreed to put it on in my stead and wear it for several
days, till it was "broken in." Until I had grown to be quite a youth
this single garment was all that I wore.
One may get the idea from what I have said, that there was bitter
feeling toward the white people on the part of my race, because of the
fact that most of the white population was away fighting in a war
which would result in keeping the Negro in slavery if the South was
successful. In the case of the slaves on our place this was not
true, and it was not true of any large portion of the slave population
in the South where the Negro was treated with anything like decency.
During the Civil War one of my young masters was killed, and two
were severely wounded. I recall the feeling of sorrow which existed
among the slaves when they heard of the death of "Mars' Billy." It was
no sham sorrow but real. Some of the slaves had nursed "Mars'
Billy"; others had played with him when he was a child. "Mars'
Billy" had begged for mercy in the case of others when the overseer or
master was thrashing them. The sorrow in the slave quarter was only
second to that in the "big house." When the two young masters were
brought home wounded, the sympathy of the slaves was shown in many
ways. They were just as anxious to assist in the nursing as the family
relatives of the wounded. Some of the slaves would even beg for the
privilege of sitting up at night to nurse their wounded masters.
This tenderness and sympathy on the part of those held in bondage
was a result of their kindly and generous nature. In order to defend
and protect the women and children who were left on the plantations
when the white males went to war, the slaves would have laid down
their lives. The slave who was selected to sleep in the "big house"
during the absence of the males was considered to have the place of
honour. Any one attempting to harm "young Mistress" or "old
Mistress" during the night would have had to cross the dead body of
the slave to do so. I do not know how many have noticed it, but I
think that it will be found to be true that there are few instances,
either in slavery or freedom, in which a member of my race has been
known to betray a specific trust.
As a rule, not only did the members of my race entertain no
feelings of bitterness against the whites before and during the war,
but there are many instances of Negroes tenderly caring for their
former masters and mistresses who for some reason have become poor and
dependent since the war. I know of instances where the former
masters of slaves have for years been supplied with money by their
former slaves to keep them from suffering. I have known of still other
cases in which the former slaves have assisted in the education of the
descendants of their former owners. I know of a case on a large
plantation in the South in which a young white man, the son of the
former owner of the estate, has become so reduced in purse and
self-control by reason of drink that he is a pitiable creature; and
yet, notwithstanding the poverty of the coloured people themselves
on this plantation, they have for years supplied this young white
man with the necessities of life. One sends him a little coffee or
sugar, another a little meat, and so on. Nothing that the coloured
people possess is too good for the son of "old Mars' Tom," who will
perhaps never be permitted to suffer while any remain on the place who
knew directly or indirectly of "old Mars' Tom."
I have said that there are few instances of a member of my race
betraying a specific trust. One of the best illustrations of this
which I know of is in the case of an ex-slave from Virginia whom I met
not long ago in a little town in the state of Ohio. I found that
this man had made a contract with his master, two or three years
previous to the Emancipation Proclamation, to the effect that the
slave was to be permitted to buy himself, by paying so much per year
for his body; and while he was paying for himself, he was to be
permitted to labour where and for whom he pleased. Finding that he
could secure better wages in Ohio, he went there. When freedom came,
he was still in debt to his master some three hundred dollars.
Notwithstanding that the Emancipation Proclamation freed him from
any obligation to his master, this black man walked the greater
portion of the distance back to where his old master lived in
Virginia, and placed the last dollar, with interest, in his hands.
In talking to me about this, the man told me that he knew that he
did not have to pay the debt, but that he had given his word to his
master, and his word he had never broken. He felt that he could not
enjoy his freedom till he had fulfilled this promise.
From some things that I have said one may get the idea that some of
the slaves did not want freedom. This is not true. I have never seen
one who did not want to be free, or one who would return to slavery.
I pity from the bottom of my heart any nation or body of people
that is so unfortunate as to get entangled in the net of slavery. I
have long since ceased to cherish any spirit of bitterness against the
Southern white people on account of the enslavement of my race. No one
section of our country was wholly responsible for its introduction,
and, besides, it was recognized and protected for years by the General
Government. Having once got its tentacles fastened on to the
economic and social life of the Republic, it was no easy matter for
the country to relieve itself of the institution. Then, when we rid
ourselves of prejudice, or racial feeling, and look facts in the face,
we must acknowledge that, notwithstanding the cruelty and moral
wrong of slavery, the ten million Negroes inhabiting this country, who
themselves or whose ancestors went through the school of American
slavery, are in a stronger and more hopeful condition, materially,
intellectually, morally, and religiously, than is true of an equal
number of black people in any other portion of the globe. This is so
to such an extent that Negroes in this country, who themselves or
whose forefathers went through the school of slavery, are constantly
returning to Africa as missionaries to enlighten those who remained in
the fatherland. This I say, not to justify slavery- on the other hand,
I condemn it as an institution, as we all know that in America it
was established for selfish and financial reasons, and not from a
missionary motive- but to call attention to a fact, and to show how
Providence so often uses men and institutions to accomplish a purpose.
When persons ask me in these days how, in the midst of what
sometimes seem hopelessly discouraging conditions, I can have such
faith in the future of my race in this country, I remind them of the
wilderness through which and out of which, a good Providence has
already led us.
Ever since I have been old enough to think for myself, I have
entertained the idea that, notwithstanding the cruel wrongs
inflicted upon us, the black man got nearly as much out of slavery
as the white man did. The hurtful influences of the institution were
not by any means confined to the Negro. This was fully illustrated
by the life upon our own plantation. The whole machinery of slavery
was so constructed as to cause labour, as a rule, to be looked upon as
a badge of degradation, of inferiority. Hence labour was something
that both races on the slave plantation sought to escape. The slave
system on our place, in a large measure, took the spirit of
self-reliance and self-help out of the white people. My old master had
many boys and girls, but not one, so far as I know, ever mastered a
single trade or special line of productive industry. The girls were
not taught to cook, sew, or to take care of the house. All of this was
left to the slaves. The slaves, of course, had little personal
interest in the life of the plantation, and their ignorance
prevented them from learning how to do things in the most improved and
thorough manner. As a result of the system, fences were out of repair,
gates were hanging half off the hinges, doors creaked, window-panes
were out, plastering had fallen but was not replaced, weeds grew in
the yard. As a rule, there was food for whites and blacks, but
inside the house, and on the dining-room table, there was wanting that
delicacy and refinement of touch and finish which can make a home
the most convenient, comfortable, and attractive place in the world.
Withal there was a waste of food and other materials which was sad.
When freedom came, the slaves were almost as well fitted to begin life
anew as the master, except in the matter of book-learning and
ownership of property. The slave owner and his sons had mastered no
special industry. They unconsciously had imbibed the feeling that
manual labour was not the proper thing for them. On the other hand,
the slaves, in many cases, had mastered some handicraft, and none were
ashamed, and few unwilling, to labour.
Finally the war closed, and the day of freedom came. It was a
momentous and eventful day to all upon our plantation. We had been
expecting it. Freedom was in the air, and had been for months.
Deserting soldiers returning to their homes were to be seen every day.
Others who had been discharged, or whose regiments had been paroled,
were constantly passing near our place. The "grape-vine telegraph" was
kept busy night and day. The news and mutterings of great events
were swiftly carried from one plantation to another. In the fear of
"Yankee" invasions, the silverware and other valuables were taken from
the "big house," buried in the woods, and guarded by trusted slaves.
Woe be to any one who would have attempted to disturb the buried
treasure. The slaves would give the Yankee soldiers food, drink,
clothing- anything but that which had been specifically intrusted to
their care and honour. As the great day drew nearer, there was more
singing in the slave quarters than usual. It was bolder, had more
ring, and lasted later into the night. Most of the verses of the
plantation songs had some reference to freedom. True, they had sung
those same verses before, but they had been careful to explain that
the "freedom" in these songs referred to the next world, and had no
connection with life in this world. Now they gradually threw off the
mask, and were not afraid to let it be known that the "freedom" in
their songs meant freedom of the body in this world. The night
before the eventful day, word was sent to the slave quarters to the
effect that something unusual was going to take place at the "big
house" the next morning. There was little, if any, sleep that night.
All was excitement and expectancy. Early the next morning word was
sent to all the slaves, old and young, to gather at the house. In
company with my mother, brother, and sister, and a large number of
other slaves, I went to the master's house. All of our master's family
were either standing or seated on the veranda of the house, where they
could see what was to take place and hear what was said. There was a
feeling of deep interest, or perhaps sadness, on their faces, but
not bitterness. As I now recall the impression they made upon me, they
did not at the moment seem to be sad because of the loss of
property, but rather because of parting with those whom they had
reared and who were in many ways very close to them. The most distinct
thing that I now recall in connection with the scene was that some man
who seemed to be a stranger (a United States officer, I presume)
made a little speech and then read a rather long paper- the
Emancipation Proclamation, I think. After the reading we were told
that we were all free, and could go when and where we pleased. My
mother, who was standing by my side, leaned over and kissed her
children, while tears of joy ran down her cheeks. She explained to
us what it all meant, that this was the day for which she had been
so long praying, but fearing that she would never live to see.
For some minutes there was great rejoicing, and thanksgiving, and
wild scenes of ecstasy. But there was no feeling of bitterness. In
fact, there was pity among the slaves for our former owners. The
wild rejoicing on the part of the emancipated coloured people lasted
but for a brief period, for I noticed that by the time they returned
to their cabins there was a change in their feelings. The great
responsibility of being free, of having charge of themselves, of
having to think and plan for themselves and their children, seemed
to take possession of them. It was very much like suddenly turning a
youth of ten or twelve years out into the world to provide for
himself. In a few hours the great questions with which the Anglo-Saxon
race had been grappling for centuries had been thrown upon these
people to be solved. These were the questions of a home, a living, the
rearing of children, education, citizenship, and the establishment and
support of churches. Was it any wonder that within a few hours the
wild rejoicing ceased and a feeling of deep gloom seemed to pervade
the slave quarters? To some it seemed that, now that they were in
actual possession of it, freedom was a more serious thing than they
had expected to find it. Some of the slaves were seventy or eighty
years old; their best days were gone. They had no strength with
which to earn a living in a strange place and among strange people,
even if they had been sure where to find a new place of abode. To this
class the problem seemed especially hard. Besides, deep down in
their hearts there was a strange and peculiar attachment to "old
Marster" and "old Missus," and to their children, which they found
it hard to think of breaking off. With these they had spent in some
cases nearly a half-century, and it was no light thing to think of
parting. Gradually, one by one, stealthily at first, the older
slaves began to wander from the slave quarters back to the "big house"
to have a whispered conversation with their former owners as to the
future.
II.
BOYHOOD DAYS
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After the coming of freedom there were two points upon which
practically all the people on our place were agreed, and I find that
this was generally true throughout the South: that they must change
their names, and that they must leave the old plantation for at
least a few days or weeks in order that they might really feel sure
that they were free.
In some way a feeling got among the coloured people that it was far
from proper for them to bear the surname of their former owners, and a
great many of them took other surnames. This was one of the first
signs of freedom. When they were slaves, a coloured person was
simply called "John" or "Susan." There was seldom occasion for more
than the use of the one name. If "John" or "Susan" belonged to a white
man by the name of "Hatcher," sometimes he was called "John
Hatcher," or as often "Hatcher's John." But there was a feeling that
"John Hatcher" or "Hatcher's John" was not the proper title by which
to denote a freeman; and so in many cases "John Hatcher" was changed
to "John S. Lincoln" or "John S. Sherman," the initial "S" standing
for no name, it being simply a part of what the coloured man proudly
called his "entitles."
As I have stated, most of the coloured people left the old
plantation for a short while at least, so as to be sure, it seemed,
that they could leave and try their freedom on to see how it felt.
After they had remained away for a time, many of the older slaves,
especially, returned to their old homes and made some kind of contract
with their former owners by which they remained on the estate.
My mother's husband, who was the stepfather of my brother John
and myself, did not belong to the same owners as did my mother. In
fact, he seldom came to our plantation. I remember seeing him there
perhaps once a year, that being about Christmas time. In some way,
during the war, by running away and following the Federal soldiers, it
seems, he found his way into the new state of West Virginia. As soon
as freedom was declared, he sent for my mother to come to the
Kanawha Valley, in West Virginia. At that time a journey from Virginia
over the mountains to West Virginia was rather a tedious and in some
cases a painful undertaking. What little clothing and few household
goods we had were placed in a cart, but the children walked the
greater portion of the distance, which was several hundred miles.
I do not think any of us ever had been very far from the
plantation, and the taking of a long journey into another state was
quite an event. The parting from our former owners and the members
of our own race on the plantation was a serious occasion. From the
time of our parting till their death we kept up a correspondence
with the older members of the family, and in later years we have
kept in touch with those who were the younger members. We were several
weeks making the trip, and most of the time we slept in the open air
and did our cooking over a log fire out of doors. One night I recall
that we camped near an abandoned log cabin, and my mother decided to
build a fire in that for cooking, and afterward to make a "pallet"
on the floor for our sleeping. Just as the fire had gotten well
started a large black snake fully a yard and a half long dropped
down the chimney and ran out on the floor. Of course we at once
abandoned that cabin. Finally we reached our destination- a little
town called Malden, which is about five miles from Charleston, the
present capital of the state.
At that time salt-mining was the great industry in that part of
West Virginia, and the little town of Malden was right in the midst of
the salt-furnaces. My stepfather had already secured a job at a
salt-furnace, and he had also secured a little cabin for us to live
in. Our new house was no better than the one we had left on the old
plantation in Virginia. In fact, in one respect it was worse.
Notwithstanding the poor condition of our plantation cabin, we were at
all times sure of pure air. Our new home was in the midst of a cluster
of cabins crowded closely together, and as there were no sanitary
regulations, the filth about the cabins was often intolerable. Some of
our neighbours were coloured people, and some were the poorest and
most ignorant and degraded white people. It was a motley mixture.
Drinking, gambling, quarrels, fights, and shockingly immoral practices
were frequent. All who lived in the little town were in one way or
another connected with the salt business. Though I was a mere child,
my stepfather put me and my brother at work in one of the furnaces.
Often I began work as early as four o'clock in the morning.
The first thing I ever learned in the way of book knowledge was
while working in this salt-furnace. Each salt-packer had his barrels
marked with a certain number. The number allotted to my stepfather was
"18." At the close of the day's work the boss of the packers would
come around and put "18" on each of our barrels, and I soon learned to
recognize the figure wherever I saw it, and after a while got to the
point where I could make that figure, though I knew nothing about
any other figures or letters.
From the time that I can remember having any thoughts about
anything, I recall that I had an intense longing to learn to read. I
determined, when quite a small child, that, if I accomplished
nothing else in life, I would in some way get enough education to
enable me to read common books and newspapers. Soon after we got
settled in some manner in our new cabin in West Virginia, I induced my
mother to get hold of a book for me. How or where she got it I do
not know, but in some way she procured an old copy of Webster's
"blue-back" spelling-book, which contained the alphabet, followed by
such meaningless words as "ab," "ba," "ca," "da." I began at once to
devour this book, and I think that it was the first one I ever had
in my hands. I had learned from somebody that the way to begin to read
was to learn the alphabet, so I tried in all the ways I could think of
to learn it- all of course without a teacher, for I could find no
one to teach me. At that time there was not a single member of my race
anywhere near us who could read, and I was too timid to approach any
of the white people. In some way, within a few weeks, I mastered the
greater portion of the alphabet. In all my efforts to learn to read my
mother shared fully my ambition, and sympathized with me and aided
me in every way that she could. Though she was totally ignorant, so
far as mere book knowledge was concerned, she had high ambitions for
her children, and a large fund of good, hard, common sense which
seemed to enable her to meet and master every situation. If I have
done anything in life worth attention, I feel sure that I inherited
the disposition from my mother.
In the midst of my struggles and longing for an education, a
young coloured boy who had learned to read in the state of Ohio came
to Malden. As soon as the coloured people found out that he could
read, a newspaper was secured, and at the close of nearly every
day's work this young man would be surrounded by a group of men and
women who were anxious to hear him read the news contained in the
papers. How I used to envy this man! He seemed to me to be the one
young man in all the world who ought to be satisfied with his
attainments.
About this time the question of having some kind of a school opened
for the coloured children in the village began to be discussed by
members of the race. As it would be the first school for Negro
children that had ever been opened in that part of Virginia, it was,
of course, to be a great event, and the discussion excited the
widest interest. The most perplexing question was where to find a
teacher. The young man from Ohio who had learned to read the papers
was considered, but his age was against him. In the midst of the
discussion about a teacher, another young coloured man from Ohio,
who had been a soldier, in some way found his way into town. It was
soon learned that he possessed considerable education, and he was
engaged by the coloured people to teach their first school. As yet
no free schools had been started for coloured people in that
section, hence each family agreed to pay a certain amount per month,
with the understanding that the teacher was to "board 'round"- that
is, spend a day with each family. This was not bad for the teacher,
for each family tried to provide the very best on the day the
teacher was to be its guest. I recall that I looked forward with an
anxious appetite to the "teacher's day" at our little cabin.
This experience of a whole race beginning to go to school for the
first time, presents one of the most interesting studies that has ever
occurred in connection with the development of any race. Few people
who were not right in the midst of the scenes can form any exact
idea of the intense desire which the people of my race showed for an
education. As I have stated, it was a whole race trying to go to
school. Few were too young, and none too old, to make the attempt to
learn. As fast as any kind of teachers could be secured, not only were
day-schools filled, but night-schools as well. The great ambition of
the older people was to try to learn to read the Bible before they
died. With this end in view, men and women who were fifty or
seventy-five years old would often be found in the night-school.
Sunday-schools were formed soon after freedom, but the principal
book studied in the Sunday-school was the spelling-book. Day-school,
night-school, Sunday-school, were always crowded, and often many had
to be turned away for want of room.
The opening of the school in the Kanawha Valley, however, brought
to me one of the keenest disappointments that I ever experienced. I
had been working in a salt-furnace for several months, and my
stepfather had discovered that I had a financial value, and so, when
the school opened, he decided that he could not spare me from my work.
This decision seemed to cloud my every ambition. The disappointment
was made all the more severe by reason of the fact that my place of
work was where I could see the happy children passing to and from
school, mornings and afternoons. Despite this disappointment, however,
I determined that I would learn something, anyway. I applied myself
with greater earnestness than ever to the mastering of what was in the
"blue-back" speller.
My mother sympathized with me in my disappointment, and sought to
comfort me in all the ways she could, and to help me find a way to
learn. After a while I succeeded in making arrangements with the
teacher to give me some lessons at night, after the day's work was
done. These night lessons were so welcome that I think I learned
more at night than the other children did during the day. My own
experiences in the night-school gave me faith in the night-school
idea, with which, in after years, I had to do both at Hampton and
Tuskegee. But my boyish heart was still set upon going to the
day-school, and I let no opportunity slip to push my case. Finally I
won, and was permitted to go to the school in the day for a few
months, with the understanding that I was to rise early in the morning
and work in the furnace till nine o'clock, and return immediately
after school closed in the afternoon for at least two more hours of
work.
The schoolhouse was some distance from the furnace, and as I had to
work till nine o'clock, and the school opened at nine, I found
myself in a difficulty. School would always be begun before I
reached it, and sometimes my class had recited. To get around this
difficulty I yielded to a temptation for which most people, I suppose,
will condemn me; but since it is a fact, I might as well state it. I
have great faith in the power and influence of facts. It is seldom
that anything is permanently gained by holding back a fact. There
was a large clock in a little office in the furnace. This clock, of
course, all the hundred or more workmen depended upon to regulate
their hours of beginning and ending the day's work. I got the idea
that the way for me to reach school on time was to move the clock
hands from half-past eight up to the nine o'clock mark. This I found
myself doing morning after morning, till the furnace "boss" discovered
that something was wrong, and locked the clock in a case. I did not
mean to inconvenience any body. I simply meant to reach that
schoolhouse in time.
When, however, I found myself at the school for the first time, I
also found myself confronted with two other difficulties. In the first
place, I found that all of the other children wore hats or caps on
their heads, and I had neither hat nor cap. In fact, I do not remember
that up to the time of going to school I had ever worn any kind of
covering upon my head, nor do I recall that either I or anybody else
had even thought anything about the need of covering for my head. But,
of course, when I saw how all the other boys were dressed, I began
to feel quite uncomfortable. As usual, I put the case before my
mother, and she explained to me that she had no money with which to
buy a "store hat," which was a rather new institution at that time
among the members of my race and was considered quite the thing for
young and old to own, but that she would find a way to help me out
of the difficulty. She accordingly got two pieces of "homespun"
(jeans) and sewed them together, and I was soon the proud possessor of
my first cap.
The lesson that my mother taught me in this has always remained
with me, and I have tried as best I could to teach it to others. I
have always felt proud, whenever I think of the incident, that my
mother had strength of character enough not to be led into the
temptation of seeming to be that which she was not- of trying to
impress my schoolmates and others with the fact that she was able to
buy me a "store hat" when she was not. I have always felt proud that
she refused to go into debt for that which she did not have the
money to pay for. Since that time I have owned many kinds of caps
and hats, but never one of which I have felt so proud as of the cap
made of the two pieces of cloth sewed together by my mother. I have
noted the fact, but without satisfaction, I need not add, that several
of the boys who began their careers with "store hats" and who were
my schoolmates and used to join in the sport that was made of me
because I had only a "homespun" cap, have ended their careers in the
penitentiary, while others are not able now to buy any kind of hat.
My second difficulty was with regard to my name, or rather a
name. From the time when I could remember anything, I had been
called simply "Booker." Before going to school it had never occurred
to me that it was needful or appropriate to have an additional name.
When I heard the school-roll called, I noticed that all of the
children had at least two names, and some of them indulged in what
seemed to me the extravagance of having three. I was in deep
perplexity, because I knew that the teacher would demand of me at
least two names, and I had only one. By the time the occasion came for
the enrolling of my name, an idea occurred to me which I thought would
make me equal to the situation; and so, when the teacher asked me what
my full name was, I calmly told him "Booker Washington," as if I had
been called by that name all my life; and by that name I have since
been known. Later in my life I found that my mother had given me the
name of "Booker Taliaferro" soon after I was born, but in some way
that part of my name seemed to disappear, and for a long while was
forgotten, but as soon as I found out about it I revived it, and
made my full name "Booker Taliaferro Washington." I think there are
not many men in our country who have had the privilege of naming
themselves in the way that I have.
More than once I have tried to picture myself in the position of
a boy or man with an honoured and distinguished ancestry which I could
trace back through a period of hundreds of years, and who had not only
inherited a name, but fortune and a proud family homestead; and yet
I have sometimes had the feeling that if I had inherited these, and
had been a member of a more popular race, I should have been
inclined to yield to the temptation of depending upon my ancestry
and my colour to do that for me which I should do for myself. Years
ago I resolved that because I had no ancestry myself I would leave a
record of which my children would be proud, and which might
encourage them to still higher effort.
The world should not pass judgement upon the Negro, and
especially the Negro youth, too quickly or too harshly. The Negro
boy has obstacles, discouragements, and temptations to battle with
that are little known to those not situated as he is. When a white boy
undertakes a task, it is taken for granted that he will succeed. On
the other hand, people are usually surprised if the Negro boy does not
fail. In a word, the Negro youth starts out with the presumption
against him.
The influence of ancestry, however, is important in helping forward
any individual or race, if too much reliance is not placed upon it.
Those who constantly direct attention to the Negro youth's moral
weaknesses, and compare his advancement with that of white youths,
do not consider the influence of the memories which cling about the
old family homesteads. I have no idea, as I have stated elsewhere, who
my grandmother was. I have, or have had, uncles and aunts and cousins,
but I have no knowledge as to where most of them are. My case will
illustrate that of hundreds of thousands of black people in every part
of our country. The very fact that the white boy is conscious that, if
he fails in life, he will disgrace the whole family record,
extending back through many generations, is of tremendous value in
helping him to resist temptations. The fact that the individual has
behind and surrounding him proud family history and connection
serves as a stimulus to help him to overcome obstacles when striving
for success.
The time that I was permitted to attend school during the day was
short, and my attendance was irregular. It was not long before I had
to stop attending day-school altogether, and devote all of my time
again to work. I resorted to the night-school again. In fact, the
greater part of the education I secured in my boyhood was gathered
through the night-school after my day's work was done. I had
difficulty often in securing a satisfactory teacher. Sometimes,
after I had secured some one to teach me at night, I would find,
much to my disappointment, that the teacher knew but little more
than I did. Often I would have to walk several miles at night in order
to recite my night-school lessons. There was never a time in my youth,
no matter how dark and discouraging the days might be, when one
resolve did not continually remain with me, and that was a
determination to secure an education at any cost.
Soon after we moved to West Virginia, my mother adopted into our
family, notwithstanding our poverty, an orphan boy, to whom
afterward we gave the name of James B. Washington. He has ever since
remained a member of the family.
After I had worked in the salt-furnace for some time, work was
secured for me in a coal-mine which was operated mainly for the
purpose of securing fuel for the salt-furnace. Work in the coal-mine I
always dreaded. One reason for this was that any one who worked in a
coal-mine was always unclean, at least while at work, and it was a
very hard job to get one's skin clean after the day's work was over.
Then it was fully a mile from the opening of the coal-mine to the face
of the coal, and all, of course, was in the blackest darkness. I do
not believe that one ever experiences anywhere else such darkness as
he does in a coal-mine. The mine was divided into a large number of
different "rooms" or departments, and, as I never was able to learn
the location of all these "rooms," I many times found myself lost in
the mine. To add to the horror of being lost, sometimes my light would
go out, and then, if I did not happen to have a match, I would
wander about in the darkness until by chance I found some one to
give me a light. The work was not only hard, but it was dangerous.
There was always the danger of being blown to pieces by a premature
explosion of powder, or of being crushed by falling slate. Accidents
from one or the other of these causes were frequently occurring, and
this kept me in constant fear. Many children of the tenderest years
were compelled then, as is now true I fear, in most coal-mining
districts, to spend a large part of their lives in these coal-mines,
with little opportunity to get an education; and, what is worse, I
have often noted that, as a rule, young boys who begin life in a
coal-mine are often physically and mentally dwarfed. They soon lose
ambition to do anything else than to continue as a coal-miner.
In those days, and later as a young man, I used to try to picture
in my imagination the feelings and ambitions of a white boy with
absolutely no limit placed upon his aspirations and activities. I used
to envy the white boy who had no obstacles placed in the way of his
becoming a Congressman, Governor, Bishop, or President by reason of
the accident of his birth or race. I used to picture the way that I
would act under such circumstances; how I would begin at the bottom
and keep rising until I reached the highest round of success.
In later years, I confess that I do not envy the white boy as I
once did. I have learned that success is to be measured not so much by
the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he
has overcome while trying to succeed. Looked at from this
standpoint, I almost reach the conclusion that often the Negro boy's
birth and connection with an unpopular race is an advantage, so far as
real life is concerned. With few exceptions, the Negro youth must work
harder and must perform his task even better than a white youth in
order to secure recognition. But out of the hard and unusual
struggle through which he is compelled to pass, he gets a strength,
a confidence, that one misses whose pathway is comparatively smooth by
reason of birth and race.
From any point of view, I had rather be what I am, a member of
the Negro race, than be able to claim membership with the most
favoured of any other race. I have always been made sad when I have
heard members of any race claiming rights and privileges, or certain
badges of distinction, on the ground simply that they were members
of this or that race, regardless of their own individual worth or
attainments. I have been made to feel sad for such persons because I
am conscious of the fact that mere connection with what is known as
a superior race will not permanently carry an individual forward
unless he has individual worth, and mere connection with what is
regarded as an inferior race will not finally hold an individual
back if he possesses intrinsic, individual merit. Every persecuted
individual and race should get much consolation out of the great human
law, which is universal and eternal, that merit, no matter under
what skin found, is, in the long run, recognized and rewarded. This
I have said here, not to call attention to myself as an individual,
but to the race to which I am proud to belong.
III.
THE STRUGGLE FOR AN EDUCATION
-
One day, while at work in the coal-mine, I happened to overhear two
miners talking about a great school for coloured people somewhere in
Virginia. This was the first time that I had ever heard anything about
any kind of school or college that was more pretentious than the
little coloured school in our town.
In the darkness of the mine I noiselessly crept as close as I could
to the two men who were talking. I heard one tell the other that not
only was the school established for the members of my race, but that
opportunities were provided by which poor but worthy students could
work out all or a part of the cost of board, and at the same time be
taught some trade or industry.
As they went on describing the school, it seemed to me that it must
be the greatest place on earth, and not even Heaven presented more
attractions for me at that time than did the Hampton Normal and
Agricultural Institute in Virginia, about which these men were
talking. I resolved at once to go to that school, although I had no
idea where it was, or how many miles away, or how I was going to reach
it; I remembered only that I was on fire constantly with one ambition,
and that was to go to Hampton. This thought was with me day and night.
After hearing of the Hampton Institute, I continued to work for a
few months longer in the coal-mine. While at work there, I heard of
a vacant position in the household of General Lewis Ruffner, the owner
of the salt-furnace and coal-mine. Mrs. Viola Ruffner, the wife of
General Ruffner, was a "Yankee" woman from Vermont. Mrs. Ruffner had a
reputation all through the vicinity for being very strict with her
servants, and especially with the boys who tried to serve her. Few
of them had remained with her more than two or three weeks. They all
left with the same excuse: she was too strict. I decided, however,
that I would rather try Mrs. Ruffner's house than remain in the
coal-mine, and so my mother applied to her for the vacant position.
I was hired at a salary of $5 per month.
I had heard so much about Mrs. Ruffner's severity that I was almost
afraid to see her, and trembled when I went into her presence. I had
not lived with her many weeks, however, before I began to understand
her. I soon began to learn that, first of all, she wanted everything
kept clean about her, that she wanted things done promptly and
systematically, and that at the bottom of everything she wanted
absolute honesty and frankness. Nothing must be sloven or slipshod;
every door, every fence, must be kept in repair.
I cannot now recall how long I lived with Mrs. Ruffner before going
to Hampton, but I think it must have been a year and a half. At any
rate, I here repeat what I have said more than once before, that the
lessons that I learned in the home of Mrs. Ruffner were as valuable to
me as any education I have ever gotten anywhere since. Even to this
day I never see bits of paper scattered around a house or in the
street that I do not want to pick them up at once. I never see a
filthy yard that I do not want to clean it, a paling off of a fence
that I do not want to put it on, an unpainted or unwhitewashed house
that I do not want to paint or whitewash it, or a button off one's
clothes, or a grease-spot on them or on a floor, that I do not want to
call attention to it.
From fearing Mrs. Ruffner I soon learned to look upon her as one of
my best friends. When she found that she could trust me she did so
implicitly. During the one or two winters that I was with her she gave
me an opportunity to go to school for an hour in the day during a
portion of the winter months, but most of my studying was done at
night, sometimes alone, sometimes under some one whom I could hire
to teach me. Mrs. Ruffner always encouraged and sympathized with me in
all my efforts to get an education. It was while living with her
that I began to get together my first library. I secured a dry-goods
box, knocked out one side of it, put some shelves in it, and began
putting into it every kind of book that I could get my hands upon, and
called it my "library."
Notwithstanding my success at Mrs. Ruffner's I did not give up
the idea of going to the Hampton Institute. In the fall of 1872 I
determined to make an effort to get there, although, as I have stated,
I had no definite idea of the direction in which Hampton was, or of
what it would cost to go there. I do not think that any one thoroughly
sympathized with me in my ambition to go to Hampton unless it was my
mother, and she was troubled with a grave fear that I was starting out
on a "wild-goose chase." At any rate, I got only a half-hearted
consent from her that I might start. The small amount of money that
I had earned had been consumed by my stepfather and the remainder of
the family, with the exception of a very few dollars, and so I had
very little with which to buy clothes and pay my travelling
expenses. My brother John helped me all that he could, but of course
that was not a great deal, for his work was in the coal-mine, where he
did not earn much, and most of what he did earn went in the
direction of paying the household expenses.
Perhaps the thing that touched and pleased me most in connection
with my starting for Hampton was the interest that many of the older
coloured people took in the matter. They had spent the best days of
their lives in slavery, and hardly expected to live to see the time
when they would see a member of their race leave home to attend a
boarding-school. Some of these older people would give me a nickel,
others a quarter, or a handkerchief.
Finally the great day came, and I started for Hampton. I had only a
small, cheap satchel that contained what few articles of clothing I
could get. My mother at the time was rather weak and broken in health.
I hardly expected to see her again, and thus our parting was all the
more sad. She, however, was very brave through it all. At that time
there were no through trains connecting that part of West Virginia
with eastern Virginia. Trains ran only a portion of the way, and the
remainder of the distance was travelled by stage-coaches.
The distance from Malden to Hampton is about five hundred miles.
I had not been away from home many hours before it began to grow
painfully evident that I did not have enough money to pay my fare to
Hampton. One experience I shall long remember. I had been travelling
over the mountains most of the afternoon in an old-fashioned
stage-coach, when, late in the evening, the coach stopped for the
night at a common, unpainted house called a hotel. All the other
passengers except myself were whites. In my ignorance I supposed
that the little hotel existed for the purpose of accommodating the
passengers who travelled on the stage-coach. The difference that the
colour of one's skin would make I had not thought anything about.
After all the other passengers had been shown rooms and were getting
ready for supper, I shyly presented myself before the man at the desk.
It is true I had practically no money in my pocket with which to pay
for bed or food, but I had hoped in some way to beg my way into the
good graces of the landlord, for at that season in the mountains of
Virginia the weather was cold, and I wanted to get indoors for the
night. Without asking as to whether I had any money, the man at the
desk firmly refused to even consider the matter of providing me with
food or lodging. This was my first experience in finding out what
the colour of my skin meant. In some way I managed to keep warm by
walking about, and so got through the night. My whole soul was so bent
upon reaching Hampton that I did not have time to cherish any
bitterness toward the hotel-keeper.
By walking, begging rides both in wagons and in the cars, in some
way, after a number of days, I reached the city of Richmond, Virginia,
about eighty-two miles from Hampton. When I reached there, tired,
hungry, and dirty, it was late in the night. I had never been in a
large city, and this rather added to my misery. When I reached
Richmond, I was completely out of money. I had not a single
acquaintance in the place, and, being unused to city ways, I did not
know where to go. I applied at several places for lodging, but they
all wanted money, and that was what I did not have. Knowing nothing
else better to do, I walked the streets. In doing this I passed by
many food-stands where fried chicken and half-moon apple pies were
piled high and made to present a most tempting appearance. At that
time it seemed to me that I would have promised all that I expected to
possess in the future to have gotten hold of one of those chicken legs
or one of those pies. But I could not get either of these, nor
anything else to eat.
I must have walked the streets till after midnight. At last I
became so exhausted that I could walk no longer. I was tired, I was
hungry, I was everything but discouraged. Just about the time when I
reached extreme physical exhaustion, I came upon a portion of a street
where the board sidewalk was considerably elevated. I waited for a few
minutes, till I was sure that no passers-by could see me, and then
crept under the sidewalk and lay for the night upon the ground, with
my satchel of clothing for a pillow. Nearly all night I could hear the
tramp of feet over my head. The next morning I found myself somewhat
refreshed, but I was extremely hungry, because it had been a long time
since I had had sufficient food. As soon as it became light enough for
me to see my surroundings I noticed that I was near a large ship,
and that this ship seemed to be unloading a cargo of pig iron. I
went at once to the vessel and asked the captain to permit me to
help unload the vessel in order to get money for food. The captain,
a white man, who seemed to be kindhearted, consented. I worked long
enough to earn money for my breakfast, and it seems to me, as I
remember it now, to have been about the best breakfast that I have
ever eaten.
My work pleased the captain so well that he told me if I desired
I could continue working for a small amount per day. This I was very
glad to do. I continued working on this vessel for a number of days.
After buying food with the small wages I received there was not much
left to add to the amount I must get to pay my way to Hampton. In
order to economize in every way possible, so as to be sure to reach
Hampton in a reasonable time, I continued to sleep under the same
sidewalk that gave me shelter the first night I was in Richmond.
Many years after that the coloured citizens of Richmond very kindly
tendered me a reception at which there must have been two thousand
people present. This reception was held not far from the spot where
I slept the first night I spent in that city, and I must confess
that my mind was more upon the sidewalk that first gave me shelter
than upon the reception, agreeable and cordial as it was.
When I had saved what I considered enough money with which to reach
Hampton, I thanked the captain of the vessel for his kindness, and
started again. Without any unusual occurrence I reached Hampton,
with a surplus of exactly fifty cents with which to begin my
education. To me it had been a long, eventful journey; but the first
sight of the large, three-story, brick school building seemed to
have rewarded me for all that I had undergone in order to reach the
place. If the people who gave the money to provide that building could
appreciate the influence the sight of it had upon me, as well as
upon thousands of other youths, they would feel all the more
encouraged to make such gifts. It seemed to me to be the largest and
most beautiful building I had ever seen. The sight of it seemed to
give me a new life. I felt that a new kind of existence had now begun-
that life would now have a new meaning. I felt that I had reached
the promised land, and I resolved to let no obstacle prevent me from
putting forth the highest effort to fit myself to accomplish the
most good in the world.
As soon as possible after reaching the grounds of the Hampton
Institute, I presented myself before the head teacher for assignment
to a class. Having been so long without proper food, a bath and change
of clothing, I did not, of course, make a very favourable impression
upon her, and I could see at once that there were doubts in her mind
about the wisdom of admitting me as a student. I felt that I could
hardly blame her if she got the idea that I was a worthless loafer
or tramp. For some time she did not refuse to admit me, neither did
she decide in my favour, and I continued to linger about her, and to
impress her in all the ways I could with my worthiness. In the
meantime I saw her admitting other students, and that added greatly to
my discomfort, for I felt, deep down in my heart, that I could do as
well as they, if I could only get a chance to show what was in me.
After some hours had passed, the head teacher said to me: "The
adjoining recitation-room needs sweeping. Take the broom and sweep
it." It occurred to me at once that here was my chance. Never did I
receive an order with more delight. I knew that I could sweep, for
Mrs. Ruffner had thoroughly taught me how to do that when I lived with
her.
I swept the recitation-room three times. Then I got a dusting-cloth
and I dusted it four times. All the woodwork around the walls, every
bench, table, and desk, I went over four times with my
dusting-cloth. Besides, every piece of furniture had been moved and
every closet and corner in the room had been thoroughly cleaned. I had
the feeling that in a large measure my future depended upon the
impression I made upon the teacher in the cleaning of that room.
When I was through, I reported to the head teacher. She was a "Yankee"
woman who knew just where to look for dirt. She went into the room and
inspected the floor and closets; then she took her handkerchief and
rubbed it on the woodwork about the walls, and over the table and
benches. When she was unable to find one bit of dirt on the floor,
or a particle of dust on any of the furniture, she quietly remarked,
"I guess you will do to enter this institution."
I was one of the happiest souls on earth. The sweeping of that room
was my college examination, and never did any youth pass an
examination for entrance into Harvard or Yale that gave him more
genuine satisfaction. I have passed several examinations since then,
but I have always felt that this was the best one I ever passed.
I have spoken of my own experience in entering the Hampton
Institute. Perhaps few, if any, had anything like the same
experience that I had, but about that same period there were
hundreds who found their way to Hampton and other institutions after
experiencing something of the same difficulties that I went through.
The young men and women were determined to secure an education at
any cost.
The sweeping of the recitation-room in the manner that I did it
seems to have paved the way for me to get through Hampton. Miss Mary
F. Mackie, the head teacher, offered me a position as janitor. This,
of course, I gladly accepted, because it was a place where I could
work out nearly all the cost of my board. The work was hard and
taxing, but I stuck to it. I had a large number of rooms to care
for, and had to work late into the night, while at the same time I had
to rise by four o'clock in the morning, in order to build the fires
and have a little time in which to prepare my lessons. In all my
career at Hampton, and ever since I have been out in the world, Miss
Mary F. Mackie, the head teacher to whom I have referred, proved one
of my strongest and most helpful friends. Her advice and encouragement
were always helpful and strengthening to me in the darkest hour.
I have spoken of the impression that was made upon me by the
buildings and general appearance of the Hampton Institute, but I
have not spoken of that which made the greatest and most lasting
impression upon me, and that was a great man- the noblest, rarest
human being that it has ever been my privilege to meet. I refer to the
late General Samuel C. Armstrong.
It has been my fortune to meet personally many of what are called
great characters, both in Europe and America, but I do not hesitate to
say that I never met any man who, in my estimation, was the equal of
General Armstrong. Fresh from the degrading influences of the slave
plantation and the coal-mines, it was a rare privilege for me to be
permitted to come into direct contact with such a character as General
Armstrong. I shall always remember that the first time I went into his
presence he made the impression upon me of being a perfect man: I
was made to feel that there was something about him that was
super-human. It was my privilege to know the General personally from
the time I entered Hampton till he died, and the more I saw of him the
greater he grew in my estimation. One might have removed from
Hampton all the buildings, classrooms, teachers, and industries, and
given the men and women there the opportunity of coming into daily
contact with General Armstrong, and that alone would have been a
liberal education. The older I grow, the more I am convinced that
there is no education which one can get from books and costly
apparatus that is equal to that which can be gotten from contact
with great men and women. Instead of studying books so constantly, how
I wish that our schools and colleges might learn to study men and
things!
General Armstrong spent two of the last six months of his life in
my home at Tuskegee. At that time he was paralyzed to the extent
that he had lost control of his body and voice in a very large degree.
Notwithstanding his affliction, he worked almost constantly night
and day for the cause to which he had given his life. I never saw a
man who so completely lost sight of himself. I do not believe he
ever had a selfish thought. He was just as happy in trying to assist
some other institution in the South as he was when working for
Hampton. Although he fought the Southern white man in the Civil War, I
never heard him utter a bitter word against him afterward. On the
other hand, he was constantly seeking to find ways by which he could
be of service to the Southern whites.
It would be difficult to describe the hold that he had upon the
students at Hampton, or the faith they had in him. In fact, he was
worshipped by his students. It never occurred to me that General
Armstrong could fail in anything that he undertook. There is almost no
request that he could have made that would not have been complied
with. When he was a guest at my home in Alabama, and was so badly
paralyzed that he had to be wheeled about in an invalid's chair, I
recall that one of the General's former students had occasion to
push his chair up a long, steep hill that taxed his strength to the
utmost. When the top of the hill was reached, the former pupil, with a
glow of happiness on his face, exclaimed, "I am so glad that I have
been permitted to do something that was real hard for the General
before he dies!" While I was a student at Hampton, the dormitories
became so crowded that it was impossible to find room for all who
wanted to be admitted. In order to help remedy the difficulty the
General conceived the plan of putting up tents to be used as rooms. As
soon as it became known that General Armstrong would be pleased if
some of the older students would live in the tents during the
winter, nearly every student in school volunteered to go.
I was one of the volunteers. The winter that we spent in those
tents was an intensely cold one, and we suffered severely- how much
I am sure General Armstrong never knew, because we made no complaints.
It was enough for us to know that we were pleasing General
Armstrong, and that we were making it possible for an additional
number of students to secure an education. More than once, during a
cold night, when a stiff gale would be blowing, our tent was lifted
bodily, and we would find ourselves in the open air. The General would
usually pay a visit to the tents early in the morning, and his
earnest, cheerful, encouraging voice would dispel any feeling of
despondency.
I have spoken of my admiration for General Armstrong, and yet he
was but a type of that Christlike body of men and women who went
into the Negro schools at the close of the war by the hundreds to
assist in lifting up my race. The history of the world fails to show a
higher, purer, and more unselfish class of men and women than those
who found their way into those Negro schools.
Life at Hampton was a constant revelation to me; was constantly
taking me into a new world. The matter of having meals at regular
hours, of eating on a tablecloth, using a napkin, the use of the
bathtub and of the tooth-brush, as well as the use of sheets upon
the bed, were all new to me.
I sometimes feel that almost the most valuable lesson I got at
the Hampton Institute was in the use and value of the bath. I
learned there for the first time some of its value, not only in
keeping the body healthy, but in inspiring self-respect and
promoting virtue. In all my travels in the South and elsewhere since
leaving Hampton I have always in some way sought my daily bath. To get
it sometimes when I have been the guest of my own people in a
single-roomed cabin has not always been easy to do, except by slipping
away to some stream in the woods. I have always tried to teach my
people that some provision for bathing should be a part of every
house.
For some time, while a student at Hampton, I possessed but a single
pair of socks, but when I had worn these till they became soiled, I
would wash them at night and hang them by the fire to dry, so that I
might wear them again the next morning.
The charge for my board at Hampton was ten dollars per month. I was
expected to pay a part of this in cash and to work out the
remainder. To meet this cash payment, as I have stated, I had just
fifty cents when I reached the institution. Aside from a very few
dollars that my brother John was able to send me once in a while, I
had no money with which to pay my board. I was determined from the
first to make my work as janitor so valuable that my services would be
indispensable. This I succeeded in doing to such an extent that I
was soon informed that I would be allowed the full cost of my board in
return for my work. The cost of tuition was seventy dollars a year.
This, of course, was wholly beyond my ability to provide. If I had
been compelled to pay the seventy dollars for tuition, in addition
to providing for my board, I would have been compelled to leave the
Hampton school. General Armstrong, however, very kindly got Mr. S.
Griffitts Morgan, of New Bedford, Mass., to defray the cost of my
tuition during the whole time that I was at Hampton. After I
finished the course at Hampton and had entered upon my lifework at
Tuskegee, I had the pleasure of visiting Mr. Morgan several times.
After having been for a while at Hampton, I found myself in
difficulty because I did not have books and clothing. Usually,
however, I got around the trouble about books by borrowing from
those who were more fortunate than myself. As to clothes, when I
reached Hampton I had practically nothing. Everything that I possessed
was in a small hand satchel. My anxiety about clothing was increased
because of the fact that General Armstrong made a personal
inspection of the young men in ranks, to see that their clothes were
clean. Shoes had to be polished, there must be no buttons off the
clothing, and no grease-spots. To wear one suit of clothes
continually, while at work and in the schoolroom, and at the same time
keep it clean, was rather a hard problem for me to solve. In some
way I managed to get on till the teachers learned that I was in
earnest and meant to succeed, and then some of them were kind enough
to see that I was partly supplied with second-hand clothing that had
been sent in barrels from the North. These barrels proved a blessing
to hundreds of poor but deserving students. Without them I question
whether I should ever have gotten through Hampton.
When I first went to Hampton I do not recall that I had ever
slept in a bed that had two sheets on it. In those days there were not
many buildings there, and room was very precious. There were seven
other boys in the same room with me; most of them, however, students
who had been there for some time. The sheets were quite a puzzle to
me. The first night I slept under both of them, and the second night I
slept on top of both of them; but by watching the other boys I learned
my lesson in this, and have been trying to follow it ever since and to
teach it to others.
I was among the youngest of the students who were in Hampton at
that time. Most of the students were men and women- some as old as
forty years of age. As I now recall the scene of my first year, I do
not believe that one often has the opportunity of coming into
contact with three or four hundred men and women who were so
tremendously in earnest as these men and women were. Every hour was
occupied in study or work. Nearly all had had enough actual contact
with the world to teach them the need of education. Many of the
older ones were, of course, too old to master the text-books very
thoroughly, and it was often sad to watch their struggles; but they
made up in earnestness much of what they lacked in books. Many of them
were as poor as I was, and, besides having to wrestle with their
books, they had to struggle with a poverty which prevented their
having the necessities of life. Many of them had aged parents who were
dependent upon them, and some of them were men who had wives whose
support in some way they had to provide for.
The great and prevailing idea that seemed to take possession of
every one was to prepare himself to lift up the people at his home. No
one seemed to think of himself. And the officers and teachers, what
a rare set of human beings they were! They worked for the students
night and day, in season and out of season. They seemed happy only
when they were helping the students in some manner. Whenever it is
written- and I hope it will be- the part that the Yankee teachers
played in the education of the Negroes immediately after the war
will make one of the most thrilling parts of the history of this
country. The time is not far distant when the whole South will
appreciate this service in a way that it has not yet been able to do.
IV.
HELPING OTHERS
-
At the end of my first year at Hampton I was confronted with
another difficulty. Most of the students went home to spend their
vacation. I had no money with which to go home, but I had to go
somewhere. In those days very few students were permitted to remain at
the school during vacation. It made me feel very sad and homesick to
see the other students preparing to leave and starting for home. I not
only had no money with which to go home, but I had none with which
to go anywhere.
In some way, however, I had gotten hold of an extra, second-hand
coat which I thought was a pretty valuable coat. This I decided to
sell, in order to get a little money for travelling expenses. I had
a good deal of boyish pride, and I tried to hide, as far as I could,
from the other students the fact that I had no money and nowhere to
go. I made it known to a few people in the town of Hampton that I
had this coat to sell, and, after a good deal of persuading, one
coloured man promised to come to my room to look the coat over and
consider the matter of buying it. This cheered my drooping spirits
considerably. Early the next morning my prospective customer appeared.
After looking the garment over carefully, he asked me how much I
wanted for it. I told him I thought it was worth three dollars. He
seemed to agree with me as to price, but remarked in the most
matter-of-fact way: "I tell you what I will do; I will take the
coat, and I will pay you five cents, cash down, and pay you the rest
of the money just as soon as I can get it." It is not hard to
imagine what my feelings were at the time.
With this disappointment I gave up all hope of getting out of the
town of Hampton for my vacation work. I wanted very much to go where I
might secure work that would at least pay me enough to purchase some
much-needed clothing and other necessities. In a few days
practically all the students and teachers had left for their homes,
and this served to depress my spirits even more.
After trying for several days in and near the town of Hampton, I
finally secured work in a restaurant at Fortress Monroe. The wages,
however, were very little more than my board. At night, and between
meals, I found considerable time for study and reading; and in this
direction I improved myself very much during the summer.
When I left school at the end of my first year, I owed the
institution sixteen dollars that I had not been able to work out. It
was my greatest ambition during the summer to save money enough with
which to pay this debt. I felt that this was a debt of honour, and
that I could hardly bring myself to the point of even trying to
enter school again till it was paid. I economized in every way that
I could think of- did my own washing, and went without necessary
garments- but still I found my summer vacation ending and I did not
have the sixteen dollars.
One day, during the last week of my stay in the restaurant, I found
under one of the tables a crisp, new ten-dollar bill. I could hardly
contain myself, I was so happy. As it was not my place of business I
felt it to be the proper thing to show the money to the proprietor.
This I did. He seemed as glad as I was, but he coolly explained to
me that, as it was his place of business, he had a right to keep the
money, and he proceeded to do so. This, I confess, was another
pretty hard blow to me. I will not say that I became discouraged,
for as I now look back over my life I do not recall that I ever became
discouraged over anything that I set out to accomplish. I have begun
everything with the idea that I could succeed, and I never had much
patience with the multitudes of people who are always ready to explain
why one cannot succeed. I have always had a high regard for the man
who could tell me how to succeed. I determined to face the situation
just as it was. At the end of the week I went to the treasurer of
the Hampton Institute, General J. F. B. Marshall, and told him frankly
my condition. To my gratification he told me that I could reenter
the institution, and that he would trust me to pay the debt when I
could. During the second year I continued to work as a janitor.
The education that I received at Hampton out of the text-books
was but a small part of what I learned there. One of the things that
impressed itself upon me deeply, the second year, was the
unselfishness of the teachers. It was hard for me to understand how
any individuals could bring themselves to the point where they could
be so happy in working for others. Before the end of the year, I think
I began learning that those who are happiest are those who do the most
for others. This lesson I have tried to carry with me ever since.
I also learned a valuable lesson at Hampton by coming into
contact with the best breeds of live stock and fowls. No student, I
think, who has had the opportunity of doing this could go out into the
world and content himself with the poorest grades.
Perhaps the most valuable thing that I got out of my second year
was an understanding of the use and value of the Bible. Miss
Nathalie Lord, one of the teachers, from Portland, Me., taught me
how to use and love the Bible. Before this I had never cared a great
deal about it, but now I learned to love to read the Bible, not only
for the spiritual help which it gives, but on account of it as
literature. The lessons taught me in this respect took such a hold
upon me that at the present time, when I am at home, no matter how
busy I am, I always make it a rule to read a chapter or a portion of a
chapter in the morning, before beginning the work of the day.
Whatever ability I may have as a public speaker I owe in a
measure to Miss Lord. When she found out that I had some inclination
in this direction, she gave me private lessons in the matter of
breathing, emphasis, and articulation. Simply to be able to talk in
public for the sake of talking has never had the least attraction
for me. In fact, I consider that there is nothing so empty and
unsatisfactory as mere abstract public speaking; but from my early
childhood I have had a desire to do something to make the world
better, and then to be able to speak to the world about that thing.
The debating societies at Hampton were a constant source of delight
to me. These were held on Saturday evening; and during my whole life
at Hampton I do not recall that I missed a single meeting. I not
only attended the weekly debating society, but was instrumental in
organizing an additional society. I noticed that between the time when
supper was over and the time to begin evening study there were about
twenty minutes which the young men usually spent in idle gossip. About
twenty of us formed a society for the purpose of utilizing this time
in debate or in practice in public speaking. Few persons ever
derived more happiness or benefit from the use of twenty minutes of
time than we did in this way.
At the end of my second year at Hampton, by the help of some
money sent me by my mother and brother John, supplemented by a small
gift from one of the teachers at Hampton, I was enabled to return to
my home in Malden, West Virginia, to spend my vacation. When I reached
home I found that the salt-furnaces were not running, and that the
coal-mine was not being operated on account of the miners being out on
a "strike." This was something which, it seemed, usually occurred
whenever the men got two or three months ahead in their savings.
During the strike, of course, they spent all that they had saved,
and would often return to work in debt at the same wages, or would
move to another mine at considerable expense. In either case, my
observations convinced me that the miners were worse off at the end of
a strike. Before the days of strikes in that section of the country, I
knew miners who had considerable money in the bank, but as soon as the
professional labour agitators got control, the savings of even the
more thrifty ones began disappearing.
My mother and the other members of the family were, of course, much
rejoiced to see me and to note the improvement that I had made
during my two years' absence. The rejoicing on the part of all classes
of the coloured people, and especially the older ones, over my return,
was almost pathetic. I had to pay a visit to each family and take a
meal with each, and at each place tell the story of my experiences
at Hampton. In addition to this I had to speak before the church and
Sunday-school, and at various other places. The thing that I was
most in search of, though, work, I could not find. There was no work
on account of the strike. I spent nearly the whole of the first
month of my vacation in an effort to find something to do by which I
could earn money to pay my way back to Hampton and save a little money
to use after reaching there.
Toward the end of the first month, I went to a place a considerable
distance from my home, to try to find employment. I did not succeed,
and it was night before I got started on my return. When I had
gotten within a mile or so of my home I was so completely tired out
that I could not walk any farther, and I went into an old, abandoned
house to spend the remainder of the night. About three o'clock in
the morning my brother John found me asleep in this house, and broke
to me, as gently as he could, the sad news that our dear mother had
died during the night.
This seemed to me the saddest and blankest moment in my life. For
several years my mother had not been in good health, but I had no
idea, when I parted from her the previous day, that I should never see
her alive again. Besides that, I had always had an intense desire to
be with her when she did pass away. One of the chief ambitions which
spurred me on at Hampton was that I might be able to get to be in a
position in which I could better make my mother comfortable and happy.
She had so often expressed the wish that she might be permitted to
live to see her children educated and started out into the world.
In a very short time after the death of my mother our little home
was in confusion. My sister Amanda, although she tried to do the
best she could, was too young to know anything about keeping house,
and my stepfather was not able to hire a housekeeper. Sometimes we had
food cooked for us, and sometimes we did not. I remember that more
than once a can of tomatoes and some crackers constituted a meal.
Our clothing went uncared for, and everything about our home was
soon in a tumble-down condition. It seems to me that this was the most
dismal period of my life.
My good friend Mrs. Ruffner, to whom I have already referred,
always made me welcome at her home, and assisted me in many ways
during this trying period. Before the end of the vacation she gave
me some work, and this, together with work in a coal-mine at some
distance from my home, enabled me to earn a little money.
At one time it looked as if I would have to give up the idea of
returning to Hampton, but my heart was so set on returning that I
determined not to give up going back without a struggle. I was very
anxious to secure some clothes for the winter, but in this I was
disappointed, except for a few garments which my brother John
secured for me. Notwithstanding my need of money and clothing, I was
very happy in the fact that I had secured enough money to pay my
travelling expenses back to Hampton.
Once there, I knew that I could make myself so useful as a
janitor that I could in some way get through the school year.
Three weeks before the time for the opening of the term at Hampton,
I was pleasantly surprised to receive a letter from my good friend
Miss Mary F. Mackie, the lady principal, asking me to return to
Hampton two weeks before the opening of the school, in order that I
might assist her in cleaning the buildings, and getting things in
order for the new school year. This was just the opportunity I wanted.
It gave me a chance to secure a credit in the treasurer's office. I
started for Hampton at once.
During these two weeks I was taught a lesson which I shall never
forget. Miss Mackie was a member of one of the oldest and most
cultured families of the North, and yet for two weeks she worked by my
side cleaning windows, dusting rooms, putting beds in order, and
what not. She felt that things would not be in condition for the
opening of school unless every window-pane was perfectly clean, and
she took the greatest satisfaction in helping to clean them herself.
The work which I have described she did every year that I was at
Hampton.
It was hard for me at this time to understand how a woman of her
education and social standing could take such delight in performing
such service, in order to assist in the elevation of an unfortunate
race. Ever since then I have had no patience with any school for my
race in the South which did not teach its students the dignity of
labour.
During my last year at Hampton every minute of my time that was not
occupied with my duties as janitor was devoted to hard study. I was
determined, if possible, to make such a record in my class as would
cause me to be placed on the "honour roll" of Commencement speakers.
This I was successful in doing. It was June of 1875 when I finished
the regular course of study at Hampton. The greatest benefits that I
got out of my life at the Hampton Institute, perhaps, may be
classified under two heads:
First was contact with a great man, General S. C. Armstrong, who, I
repeat, was, in my opinion, the rarest, strongest, and most
beautiful character that it has ever been my privilege to meet.
Second, at Hampton, for the first time, I learned what education
was expected to do for an individual. Before going there I had a
good deal of the then rather prevalent idea among our people that to
secure an education meant to have a good, easy time, free from all
necessity for manual labour. At Hampton I not only learned that it was
not a disgrace to labour, but learned to love labour, not alone for
its financial value, but for labour's own sake and for the
independence and self-reliance which the ability to do something which
the world wants done brings. At that institution I got my first
taste of what it meant to live a life of unselfishness, my first
knowledge of the fact that the happiest individuals are those who do
the most to make others useful and happy.
I was completely out of money when I graduated. In company with
other Hampton students, I secured a place as a table waiter in a
summer hotel in Connecticut, and managed to borrow enough money with
which to get there. I had not been in this hotel long before I found
out that I knew practically nothing about waiting on a hotel table.
The head waiter, however, supposed that I was an accomplished
waiter. He soon gave me charge of a table at which there sat four or
five wealthy and rather aristocratic people. My ignorance of how to
wait upon them was so apparent that they scolded me in such a severe
manner that I became frightened and left their table, leaving them
sitting there without food. As a result of this I was reduced from the
position of waiter to that of a dish-carrier.
But I determined to learn the business of waiting, and did so
within a few weeks and was restored to my former position. I have
had the satisfaction of being a guest in this hotel several times
since I was a waiter there.
At the close of the hotel season I returned to my former home in
Malden, and was elected to teach the coloured school at that place.
This was the beginning of one of the happiest periods of my life. I
now felt that I had the opportunity to help the people of my home town
to a higher life. I felt from the first that mere book education was
not all that the young people of that town needed. I began my work
at eight o'clock in the morning, and, as a rule, it did not end
until ten o'clock at night. In addition to the usual routine of
teaching, I taught the pupils to comb their hair, and to keep their
hands and faces clean, as well as their clothing. I gave special
attention to teaching them the proper use of the tooth-brush and the
bath. In all my teaching I have watched carefully the influence of the
tooth-brush, and I am convinced that there are few single agencies
of civilization that are more far-reaching.
There were so many of the older boys and girls in the town, as well
as men and women, who had to work in the daytime but still were
craving an opportunity for some education, that I soon opened a
night-school. From the first, this was crowded every night, being
about as large as the school that I taught in the day. The efforts
of some of the men and women, who in many cases were over fifty
years of age, to learn, were in some cases very pathetic.
My day- and night-school work was not all that I undertook. I
established a small reading-room and a debating society. On Sundays
I taught two Sunday-schools, one in the town of Malden in the
afternoon, and the other in the morning at a place three miles distant
from Malden. In addition to this, I gave private lessons to several
young men whom I was fitting to send to the Hampton Institute. Without
regard to pay and with little thought of it, I taught any one who
wanted to learn anything that I could teach him. I was supremely happy
in the opportunity of being able to assist somebody else. I did
receive, however, a small salary from the public fund, for my work
as a public-school teacher.
During the time that I was a student at Hampton my older brother,
John, not only assisted me all that he could, but worked all of the
time in the coal-mines in order to support the family. He willingly
neglected his own education that he might help me. It was my earnest
wish to help him to prepare to enter Hampton, and to save money to
assist him in his expenses there. Both of these objects I was
successful in accomplishing. In three years my brother finished the
course at Hampton, and he is now holding the important position of
Superintendent of Industries at Tuskegee. When he returned from
Hampton, we both combined our efforts and savings to send our
adopted brother, James, through the Hampton Institute. This we
succeeded in doing, and he is now the postmaster at the Tuskegee
Institute. The year 1877, which was my second year of teaching in
Malden, I spent very much as I did the first.
It was while my home was at Malden that what was known as the "Ku
Klux Klan" was in the height of its activity. The "Ku Klux" were bands
of men who had joined themselves together for the purpose of
regulating the conduct of the coloured people, especially with the
object of preventing the members of the race from exercising any
influence in politics. They corresponded somewhat to the
"patrollers" of whom I used to hear a great deal during the days of
slavery, when I was a small boy. The "patrollers" were bands of
white men- usually young men- who were organized largely for the
purpose of regulating the conduct of the slaves at night in such
matters as preventing the slaves from going from one plantation to
another without passes, and for preventing them from holding any
kind of meetings without permission and without the presence at
these meetings of at least one white man.
Like the "patrollers" the "Ku Klux" operated almost wholly at
night. They were, however, more cruel than the "patrollers." Their
objects, in the main, were to crush out the political aspirations of
the Negroes, but they did not confine themselves to this, because
schoolhouses as well as churches were burned by them, and many
innocent persons were made to suffer. During this period not a few
coloured people lost their lives.
As a young man, the acts of these lawless bands made a great
impression upon me. I saw one open battle take place at Malden between
some of the coloured and white people. There must have been not far
from a hundred persons engaged on each side; many on both sides were
seriously injured, among them being General Lewis Ruffner, the husband
of my friend Mrs. Viola Ruffner. General Ruffner tried to defend the
coloured people, and for this he was knocked down and so seriously
wounded that he never completely recovered. It seemed to me as I
watched this struggle between members of the two races, that there was
no hope for our people in this country. The "Ku Klux" period was, I
think, the darkest part of the Reconstruction days.
I have referred to this unpleasant part of the history of the South
simply for the purpose of calling attention to the great change that
has taken place since the days of the "Ku Klux." To-day there are no
such organizations in the South, and the fact that such ever existed
is almost forgotten by both races. There are few places in the South
now where public sentiment would permit such organizations to exist.
V.
THE RECONSTRUCTION PERIOD
-
The years from 1867 to 1878 I think may be called the period of
Reconstruction. This included the time that I spent as a student at
Hampton and as a teacher in West Virginia. During the whole of the
Reconstruction period two ideas were constantly agitating the minds of
the coloured people, or, at least, the minds of a large part of the
race. One of these was the craze for Greek and Latin learning, and the
other was a desire to hold office.
It could not have been expected that a people who had spent
generations in slavery, and before that generations in the darkest
heathenism, could at first form any proper conception of what an
education meant. In every part of the South, during the Reconstruction
period, schools, both day and night, were filled to overflowing with
people of all ages and conditions, some being as far along in age as
sixty and seventy years. The ambition to secure an education was
most praiseworthy and encouraging. The idea, however, was too
prevalent that, as soon as one secured a little education, in some
unexplainable way he would be free from most of the hardships of the
world, and, at any rate, could live without manual labour. There was a
further feeling that a knowledge, however little, of the Greek and
Latin languages would make one a very superior human being,
something bordering almost on the supernatural. I remember that the
first coloured man whom I saw who knew something about foreign
languages impressed me at that time as being a man of all others to be
envied.
Naturally, most of our people who received some little education
became teachers or preachers. While among these two classes there were
many capable, earnest, godly men and women, still a large proportion
took up teaching or preaching as an easy way to make a living. Many
became teachers who could do little more than write their names. I
remember there came into our neighbourhood one of this class, who
was in search of a school to teach, and the question arose while he
was there as to the shape of the earth and how he would teach the
children concerning this subject. He explained his position in the
matter by saying that he was prepared to teach that the earth was
either flat or round, according to the preference of a majority of his
patrons.
The ministry was the profession that suffered most- and still
suffers, though there has been great improvement- on account of not
only ignorant but in many cases immoral men who claimed that they were
"called to preach." In the earlier days of freedom almost every
coloured man who learned to read would receive "a call to preach"
within a few days after he began reading. At my home in West
Virginia the process of being called to the ministry was a very
interesting one. Usually the "call" came when the individual was
sitting in church. Without warning the one called would fall upon
the floor as if struck by a bullet, and would lie there for hours,
speechless and motionless. Then the news would spread all through
the neighbourhood that this individual had received a "call." If he
were inclined to resist the summons, he would fall or be made to
fall a second or third time. In the end he always yielded to the call.
While I wanted an education badly, I confess that in my youth I had
a fear that when I had learned to read and write well I would
receive one of these "calls"; but, for some reason, my call never
came.
When we add the number of wholly ignorant men who preached or
"exhorted" to that of those who possessed something of an education,
it can be seen at a glance that the supply of ministers was large.
In fact, some time ago I knew a certain church that had a total
membership of about two hundred, and eighteen of that number were
ministers. But, I repeat, in many communities in the South the
character of the ministry is being improved, and I believe that within
the next two or three decades a very large proportion of the
unworthy ones will have disappeared. The "calls" to preach, I am
glad to say, are not nearly so numerous now as they were formerly, and
the calls to some industrial occupation are growing more numerous. The
improvement that has taken place in the character of the teachers is
even more marked than in the case of the ministers.
During the whole of the Reconstruction period our people throughout
the South looked to the Federal Government for everything, very much
as a child looks to its mother. This was not unnatural. The central
government gave them freedom, and the whole Nation had been enriched
for more than two centuries by the labour of the Negro. Even as a
youth, and later in manhood, I had the feeling that it was cruelly
wrong in the central government, at the beginning of our freedom, to
fail to make some provision for the general education of our people in
addition to what the states might do, so that the people would be
the better prepared for the duties of citizenship.
It is easy to find fault, to remark what might have been done,
and perhaps, after all, and under all the circumstances, those in
charge of the conduct of affairs did the only thing that could be done
at the time. Still, as I look back now over the entire period of our
freedom, I cannot help feeling that it would have been wiser if some
plan could have been put in operation which would have made the
possession of a certain amount of education or property, or both, a
test for the exercise of the franchise, and a way provided by which
this test should be made to apply honestly and squarely to both the
white and black races.
Though I was but little more than a youth during the period of
Reconstruction, I had the feeling that mistakes were being made, and
that things could not remain in the condition that they were in then
very long. I felt that the Reconstruction policy, so far as it related
to my race, was in a large measure on a false foundation, was
artificial and forced. In many cases it seemed to me that the
ignorance of my race was being used as a tool with which to help white
men into office, and that there was an element in the North which
wanted to punish the Southern white men by forcing the Negro into
positions over the heads of the Southern whites. I felt that the Negro
would be the one to suffer for this in the end. Besides, the general
political agitation drew the attention of our people away from the
more fundamental matters of perfecting themselves in the industries at
their doors and in securing property.
The temptations to enter political life were so alluring that I
came very near yielding to them at one time, but I was kept from doing
so by the feeling that I would be helping in a more substantial way by
assisting in the laying of the foundation of the race through a
generous education of the hand, head, and heart. I saw coloured men
who were members of the state legislatures, and county officers,
who, in some cases, could not read or write, and whose morals were
as weak as their education. Not long ago, when passing through the
streets of a certain city in the South, I heard some brick-masons
calling out, from the top of a two-story brick building on which
they were working, for the "Governor" to "hurry up and bring up some
more bricks." Several times I heard the command, "Hurry up, Governor!"
"Hurry up, Governor!" My curiosity was aroused to such an extent
that I made inquiry as to who the "Governor" was, and soon found
that he was a coloured man who at one time had held the position of
Lieutenant-Governor of his state.
But not all the coloured people who were in office during
Reconstruction were unworthy of their positions, by any means. Some of
them, like the late Senator B. K. Bruce, Governor Pinchback, and
many others, were strong, upright, useful men. Neither were all the
class designated as carpetbaggers dishonourable men. Some of them,
like ex-Governor Bullock, of Georgia, were men of high character and
usefulness.
Of course the coloured people, so largely without education, and
wholly without experience in government, made tremendous mistakes,
just as any people similarly situated would have done. Many of the
Southern whites have a feeling that, if the Negro is permitted to
exercise his political rights now to any degree, the mistakes of the
Reconstruction period will repeat themselves. I do not think this
would be true, because the Negro is a much stronger and wiser man than
he was thirty-five years ago, and he is fast learning the lesson
that he cannot afford to act in a manner that will alienate his
Southern white neighbours from him. More and more I am convinced
that the final solution of the political end of our race problem
will be for each state that finds it necessary to change the law
bearing upon the franchise to make the law apply with absolute
honesty, and without opportunity for double dealing or evasion, to
both races alike. Any other course, my daily observation in the
South convinces me, will be unjust to the Negro, unjust to the white
man, and unfair to the rest of the states in the Union, and will be,
like slavery, a sin that at some time we shall have to pay for.
In the fall of 1878, after having taught school in Malden for two
years, and after I had succeeded in preparing several of the young men
and women, besides my two brothers, to enter the Hampton Institute,
I decided to spend some months in study at Washington, D.C. I remained
there for eight months. I derived a great deal of benefit from the
studies which I pursued, and I came into contact with some strong
men and women. At the institution I attended there was no industrial
training given to the students, and I had an opportunity of
comparing the influence of an institution with no industrial
training with that of one like the Hampton Institute, that
emphasized the industries. At this school I found the students, in
most cases, had more money, were better dressed, wore the latest style
of all manner of clothing, and in some cases were more brilliant
mentally. At Hampton it was a standing rule that, while the
institution would be responsible for secur |
